


small comforts, and eggnog

by sockablock



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Fluff, Gen, Some angst, and duck is stressed (tm), conversations over nog, the mothman is a good listener
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockablock/pseuds/sockablock
Summary: “So,” said Indrid, taking a sip from his own cup, “you’ve got questions.”“I’ve gotquestion,” Duck corrected. “Youknewthis was gonna happen, didn’t you?”Indrid considered this for a moment. Then he shrugged, and gave a loose nod.“In a manner of speaking, yes. I was almost certain you’d storm in here, and I knew you’d be a bit…upset, when you did.”(or: a powerless duck seeks answers from the mothman)





	small comforts, and eggnog

Footsteps crunched in the snow outside the Winnebago, and from within his space-heater paradise, Indrid Cold gave a sigh.

He’d already pulled some cushions off the sofa, cleared the floor of all his drawings, left two steaming mugs to cool on the coffee table. But even the promise of hot, sweet nog couldn’t make this impending conversation any easier, so when the door to his trailer flung open, Indrid braced himself as two voices shouted:

“ _Did you know about this_?!”

He coughed a few times. He gave Duck Newton a weak smile.

“Why don’t you come in?”

Duck seemed to settle slightly, but he didn’t look all that pleased. He took his helmet off and tucked his skateboard away, into the corner by a stray umbrella.

He followed the Mothman’s lead and sat down on one of the cushions. He was handed a mug of nog, which he did not drink.

“So,” said Indrid, taking a sip from his own cup, “you’ve got questions.”

“I’ve got _question_ ,” Duck corrected. “You _knew_ this was gonna happen, didn’t you?”

Indrid considered this for a moment. Then he shrugged, and gave a loose nod.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I was almost certain you’d storm in here, and I knew you’d be a bit…upset, when you did.”

“A _bit_?” Duck snorted. “Indrid, it’s a bit more than a bit. It’s…Jesus, _everything’s_ changed! How’ll I, how’ll I _fight,_ how’ll I protect people and stay alive? I mean…God, Indrid, _God_ , why didn’t you _tell_ me this would _happen_?”

The Mothman sighed. He took another sip of nog.

“I didn’t think it was my place,” he said. “It seemed…personal. And it’s not like an abomination attack, where you could prevent it ahead of time. That is, unless you know something I don’t about stopping asteroids.”

His joke, meant to lighten the mood, did not. Duck’s expression soured.

“You still could’ve _said_ something,” he muttered. “Some kinda warnin’. A note, or a call, or _somethin’_ that’d let me know what to expect! That would help me, I dunno, process this shit, or somethin’. So I could’ve worked out what the _hell_ it is I’m supposed to do now.”

Behind scarlet glasses, Indrid blinked a few times.

“I…I guess I’m sorry, then?”

“Yeah. Sure. Right, yeah, that’s helpful.”

Indrid raised an eyebrow. “What would you rather I do?” he asked. “Not be sorry? I can try that, if you’d like, though I’m not sure it will help.”

And then, Duck’s posture eased. He exhaled slowly, and shook his head. “Nah. Just…nah.” He set his mug down. “God, _I’m_ the one who should be sorry, bargin’ into your house like this. It’s sort of uncalled for, in retrospect. I think I just…I’ve just had kind of a crazy couple of days, what with breakin’ my sword and learnin’ about Leo and losin’ my magic, and all that.”

“And you saved the Mothman from some Goatmen,” Indrid added quietly. “Er…thank you for that, by the way.”

Duck snorted. “Yeah, right, well. You’re welcome. Just don’t get in danger again, ‘cause I don’t think I can be savin’ you like that, anymore. Now that I ain’t special.”

“Well,” Indrid began, “I wouldn’t say you aren’t _special_ —”

“Alright, relative to what I was before.”

“Even so—”

Duck raised a finger. “Uh-uh,” he warned. “Don’t go on tryin’. And don’t try to convince me I’m unique and stuff, either. Not _only_ was I not the only Chosen One, _now_ I ain’t even that! I’m just a normal guy. A regular…Joe Pasta. Mundane as all hell.”

Indrid considered this for a moment. “Still,” he pointed out, “you know more than most. You’ve seen more than most. And at this moment, you’re quite literally having a drink with the Mothman.”

Duck shrugged. “And fat lotta good that’ll do me,” he said. Then he added, “Er…no offense.”

“None taken.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just…Christ, I mean, what _am_ I supposed to do, now? I ain’t any use to the Pine Guard, certainly, and I ain’t any use to anyone needing a hero.”

Indrid took a pensive sip of nog. “You might be,” he volunteered. “You don’t know that.”

Duck raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, sure, and how am I supposed to find out whether or not I am? Go runnin’ off into the woods and see if I can fight off a monster with my broken sword? One hit and I’m _dead_ , Indrid. Ain’t much room for error and exploration, there.”

There was a brief pause, filled with the whirring of space heaters. Then Indrid sighed.

“Why did you come here, Duck?”

Another pause.

Duck gazed morosely into his cup. He breathed out again, slowly. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “If I’m bein’ honest, I think I wanted someone to blame for all this. I _am_ sorry I sorta broke into your house, but I’m serious about one thing. A little warnin’ next time—not that I think there _will_ be a next time—a little warnin’ would’ve been nice.”

Indrid tilted his head to the side. “Even if you wouldn’t have liked what I’d have told you? Even if it meant you would have to live your grief twice?”

Duck shrugged. “I’m just a backwoods forest ranger. But I think living it twice and bein’ prepared the second time would’ve suited me better.”

There was a faint nod. “Sorry, in that case. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Duck sighed. He sank into himself with the weight of burdens he’d never intended to own.

 “Lots of people seem to think that, these days. Lots of people try to do things right, and somehow I get caught right up in the middle. Er…not that I’m blamin’ you, Indrid. I think I might just need to rant.”

There was another nod. This one was inviting.

“ _I_ think you’ve earned that, Duck.”

He reached for his eggnog. He swirled the mug in his hands.

“Ever since I was a kid,” he said quietly, “I’ve had parents tryin’ to tell me what was right and what was wrong. And when my idea of what was right for me didn’t match up with theirs, things…sort of went south for our relationship. And then as I got older, just about when I started bein’ comfortable _as_ me, Minerva showed up and suddenly I had a destiny and a purpose, even though all _I_ wanted to do was get a chance to catch up on all the dumb things I never got to do as a kid. And then years later, _years_ later, I finally decide to actually, y’know, _embrace_ this monster-huntin’ stuff, and the next thing you know, the stuff that initially made me special, and the stuff that _let_ me do the job, just up an’ left. Well, not exactly left, more like had to hide ‘cause of an asteroid—”

“I think I get the picture.”

“—right. And, I dunno, I just…I just wish sometimes that the universe would’ve left me alone in the first place. Or…I guess I wish it would’ve kept helping me, now that I’m finally doin’ what it wants. Hell, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it? If the magic just came back, so I could throw this stupid skateboardin’ helmet away and go back to bein an X-Man.”

Indrid drained the last of his mug. He set it down by his elbow, and leaned against the table.

“I don’t know you _that_ well, Duck,” he murmured, “but I was under the impression that you were doing this reluctantly. Aren’t you free, now? You have the perfect excuse to return to a normal life. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Duck sighed. He looked into his eggnog for answers, and found none.

“I think that’s the worst part,” he said softly. “I don’t think I _can_. I _don’t_ think I want to.”

Indrid nodded. “Then what _is_ it that you want?”

Duck was silent. A slow winter breeze touched the windows of the trailer.

“I want…I want to know that Minnie’ll be alright. I want to know that my friends’ll be okay. I want…I want the forest to be protected, and I want the Lodge to be safe, and I want you to be happy and I want Beacon to be fixed and I want my sister to come home, and, and…”

He chuckled, and wiped at the corners of his eyes.

“…I want someone to tell me that everything will turn out fine. I want someone to tell me it’s okay that I’m lost. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I don’t know what I’m _supposed_ to do, anymore, and I just wish I was still the kind of guy who could walk away from it all, who could ignore destiny and fate and stuff, because at least that guy…at least _that_ guy knew how to wake up in the mornin’ without feelin’ like the whole world would burn down if he didn’t have the answers.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then a surprisingly firm arm wrapped around Duck’s waist. And then another, and then a weight on his chest, as Indrid Cold leaned in for a hug. His glasses shifted slightly when he pressed his chin to Duck’s shoulders, and there was a small bump from the crystal around his neck.

“Everything will turn out fine,” Indrid murmured. “It’s okay to be lost. It’s okay you don’t know what you’re doing. But, um…for the record, I’m happy you aren’t the person you used to be. Because if you were, there would be a lot more tragedy in Kepler, today. And I personally think I might’ve been eaten by a goat.”

There was a waiting quiet, afterwards. And then Duck felt a faint smile creeping across his face.

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

Indrid shrugged. “I meant most of it.”

They pulled away slowly, carefully, and though Duck felt a bit reluctant to break apart, he no longer felt quite as empty as before.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “I…I’m still confused, but it’s better, now.”

“Anytime,” Indrid nodded. “I’ve been told I give good hugs.”

This comment was weird enough that it shook Duck out of his daze entirely.

“ _What_?” he asked. “Wait, _what_? How come?”

“I think it’s the fur,” Indrid grinned. “You know, when I’m full-on Mothman. And the wings make my embraces even more powerful.”

Duck snorted. “Fuck, I never thought about hug- _power_ before. And you know, actually, Indrid, you’d probably make a great member of the Pine Guard, if that’s the case! Hell, I’m sure you’d be much better at it than me, what with the flyin’ and the fortune tellin’, since _my_ skills now only include skateboardin’ and two years of high school trombone.”

There was a faint laugh, and then Indrid shook his head. “I’m not much use in the field,” he admitted. “Most people are put off by my human appearance, not to mention my…Sylvan one. And I’m not really cut out for fighting.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I happen to know of a group that’ll probably be lookin’ for a tank, sometime soon. Promise me you’ll think about it, though?”

Indrid seemed to understand enough to give a soft chuckle. “Sure,” he said. “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

Duck drained the last of his eggnog, then set his mug back down on the table. “I should get goin’ soon,” he sighed, glancing over towards his skateboard. “I’ve gotta get back before my break ends, and I can’t exactly run at the speed of light, anymore.”

Indrid raised an eyebrow. “Could you do that before?”

“Nope.”

He laughed again. “Alright, well, at least you’ve got the practice.” Then he paused, and seemed to wrestle with something for a moment.

“Ah…Duck?”

There was the _click_ of a helmet being locked into place. “Yeah?”

He thumbed the corner of his sleeve. “I was…goofing a bit about the hugs, but…well, if you ever _do_ want to talk, my trailer’s always here. I’ve always got plenty of nog.”

Duck reached for his skateboard. He stared at the ground, for a few moments.

“…thanks, Indrid. That, um…that means a lot to hear.”

Indrid nodded. “And…when your sister _does_ come back,” he added hesitantly, “I would, er…she sounds like a great person. And like someone really important to you. So…if, if it’s alright, I think I’d quite like to meet her.”

Duck turned in the doorway, skateboard in hand, the afternoon sun draping warm across his shoulders.

There was a gentle smile to his lips.

“Her name’s Jane,” he said softly. “I bet she’d love to meet someone important to me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! I know im usually a critrole author, but I'm branchin' out a bit and I really hope you've enjoyed this story!! Duck Newton is ,, a DELIGHT to write
> 
> <33333333333333333


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